


Azaleas

by Stormwriter



Category: Sander Sides, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Arguing, Bittersweet Ending, Flowers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-14 22:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13599738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormwriter/pseuds/Stormwriter
Summary: Roman and Virgil argue about actions and discuss flowers.





	Azaleas

Virgil stares at the familiar bright red flowers growing below the old bench he’s sitting on, remembering seeing similar flowers throughout the week. It’s quite odd to see such bright colors thriving in this otherwise barren and desolate street in the middle of nowhere. The ground is dry and lifeless, the grass brown and dying; Virgil wonders just how these flowers are thriving in this bare area devoid of life. Maybe they’re just adapted to be like dandelions and can grow virtually anywhere?

He starts making a mental note to ask Logan later until he remembers with a jolt that he can’t.

...Perhaps Princey would know.

“-would be different this time- wait, are you even paying attention? Virgil? Virgil!”

 _Speaking of Princey,_ Virgil thinks as his eyes snap up to Roman, who has suddenly stopped his frantic pacing in front of the bench to stare down at Virgil with narrowed eyes. “What?” Virgil asks.

“You’re not listening to me!” Roman says, putting his hands on his hips.

Virgil sighs, his eyes passing the lit lamppost behind Roman to watch the setting sun in the distance. It’s dusk again; Virgil hates it when it’s dusk. His focus shifts back to Roman. “Because we’ve had this conversation before, Princey. We can’t go back, you know that.”

“We _could_  though, if we just-”

“No.”

“I’ll be more careful this time, I promise, just-”

“No!”

“But we-”

“We’re not going back!”

Roman’s hands curl into fists. “It’s like you don’t even miss them! What’s wrong with you? Do you even care about them?”

Virgil clenches his fists in anger, ready to lash out and retaliate, until he realizes what he's doing and freezes, focusing his gaze on the red flowers again, intentionally slowing down his suddenly shallow breath. “Pump the breaks, Princey,” he says, his voice soft, gentle.

Roman flinches, catching himself as well, then runs his frantic hands through his hair and closes his eyes. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just- there’s a lot of- I feel…” his voice trails off as he makes a vague gesture with his hands.

“I know,” Virgil says. “It’s fine. I feel it too.”

Virgil wishes he didn’t though; there’s a pulsing, desperate _longing_ inside of him. His heart is aching because of it, and it’s torturous, almost overwhelming. He knows there’s only one way to permanently soothe it: going back to the others. And as much as it hurts, Virgil cannot bring himself to do that to them; he’s not making that mistake again.

As the sun goes down, this desperation strengthens its grip, and Virgil has to fight to not lose himself in it. It’s so tempting to go back to the others for one last time, to talk astronomy with Logan, to hug Patton again, to ensure Thomas is truly ok and safer without them. He wants to stop the aching in his chest and see the rest of his family.

But Virgil gave into that temptation once. He doesn’t make the same mistake twice.

The longing is slowly enveloping Virgil, he can only imagine how much more intense it is for Roman. The royal side may not be the one literally representing feelings, but he is naturally more emotionally charged than Virgil is. 

  
According to Roman, this curse, unlike most of the magic from Roman’s realm, is “exclusively emotional and unique in its nature”, which in Virgil’s head roughly translates to _Roman has no friggin idea what they’re dealing with either._  Despite the curse coming from Roman’s Imagination, the royal side knows as little as Virgil does. 

Roman sighs, and Virgil refocuses on him.

“It’s not fine,” Roman says. “What I said was still uncalled for. I’m sorry. I know you care just as much as I do. I _know_ that.” He sighs, collapsing onto the bench next to Virgil. “I just- I just miss them.”

“I know. I do, too.”

Roman fiddles with his sash. “I want to see them one last time.”

Virgil sighs, closing his eyes. “We can't. It’s not safe, you know that.”

Roman waves him off. “It wasn’t safe last time because I didn’t know what I was doing. This time, we'll be more cautious and we'll see the dragon witch coming, and-”

“I bet Patton still has that cast on his arm,” Virgil interrupts casually, keeping the pain from his voice. Roman deflates instantly. “Logan probably is still taking care of those burns on his leg. And don’t even get me started on the effects on Thomas from last time.”

“That’s not fair,” Roman says, his voice full of hurt. “I didn’t know she would show up, or that they would get hurt. I didn’t mean for-”

“All of this to happen,” Virgil finishes for him. “I know. I _get_ it, Princey, I do. I’m not blaming you. But I also know that every time the sun goes down, this curse gets stronger and you get more ansty-”

“I do not!” Roman lies.

“You do, you don’t fare well when it’s dark and there’s no distractions.” Virgil says. Neither does Virgil, but that's besides the point. “I know it’s tempting to think that we can be smarter and meet up with the others again without leading her right to them. But that’s what we thought last time, and that ended horribly, for everyone. And if we go back, the same, exact thing will happen again because we _still_ have no idea how the heck it happened last time. We can’t do that to them again, Roman. Trust me, I want to see them again too, but we _can’t._ I’m not changing my mind on this. Please stop asking.”

“I’m sorry. I just-” Roman’s hands move to his chest. “My heart hurts.”

“I know. Mine does too. We’ll be ok, though.”

“I feel like I should be doing _something_ ,” Roman says, his hands fiddling with his sash again. “I hate this. I hate running and not knowing and not being able to do anything and _hurting_ . I just-” Roman’s voice breaks. “I _miss_ them. I miss them so much and it _hurts._ ”

Roman _breaks,_  and suddenly he’s sobbing.

Virgil’s chest aches even more and reaches out a hand. Roman latches onto him desperately.

“I know,” Virgil says, gently squeezing Roman’s hand. “Trust me, I know. But you gotta calm down now, buddy. Take deep breaths with me.”

Virgil runs his thumb along the back of Roman’s hand, looking away to the yellow flowers by their feet. He listens to Roman’s rapid breaths gradually slowing down, trying to match Virgil’s.

Roman, Virgil has learned, hates being looked at when he’s crying, as he completely convinced that he’s not a “pretty crier”. Virgil has never really understood what Roman means by that; how can tears be _pretty_? He’s never seen anything but pain in his friends’ tears. But if avoiding eye contact with Roman when he’s sobbing helps comfort him, Virgil is more than willing to do so.

Gradually, Roman gains back control of his breath and stops his sobbing. After squeezing Virgil’s hand once in gratitude, he lets go and starts wiping the tear tracks off his face.

“You ok?” Virgil asks.

Roman nods with a small smile on his face, and Virgil sighs in relief.

Roman’s gaze falls to the ground near Virgil’s feet, and his smile falls off immediately.

“What's wrong?” Virgil asks.

“I really hate those flowers.”

Virgil looks down at pink flowers, then back at Roman, who has his hands clenched again. “They’re just flowers,” Virgil says, then frowns. Something feels off _._ “They do tend to pop up wherever we are when the sun goes down, though.”  

Roman grimaces, and Virgil sighs. “Ok, what’s up?”

Roman runs his hand through his hair. “I just- they’re _azaleas_.” He says the name in disdain.

“Ok...? Are they poisonous?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not really why I -” Roman pauses, running his hand through his hair again. “It’s what they represent that’s bothering me; it’s way too appropriate. Generally, azaleas symbolize a desire to return home. And passion. Temperance, death, femin-”

“Hold up, _death_ ?! There have conveniently been _death flowers_ in _every_ place we are during the night, and you didn’t think that would be important to mention?”

Roman crosses his arms. “Well, I’m sorry if I don’t notice every single flower that’s around us all the time!”

“How do you _not_ notice them? They've been literally everywhere!”

“I’ve been a bit busy trying to figure out how to undo this curse, thank you very much, and-”

Roman freezes, catching himself, and sighs as he forces his shoulders to drop. “Wait Virge, stop,” Roman says, running his hand through his hair. “We’re doing the thing again.”

But Virgil can’t stop. There’s a fire burning too brightly in his chest, and he’s spitting out words before he even realizes what he’s saying. “I’m sorry, whose fault is that? Remind me again, whose realm did this curse come from? Who created magic that he couldn’t understand and then let it get out of control? Who couldn’t defeat his own made-up antagonist? Who-”

“Virgil, buddy, calm d-”

“ _Don’t tell me to calm down!_ ” Virgil is standing over Roman, glaring down at him. He doesn’t remember getting up from the bench. Nor does he remember when exactly his previously loose hands became fists.

He should probably be concerned about that.

Frankly, he doesn’t give a darn.

“Ok,” Roman put his hands up in surrender. “Alright. I don’t want to argue with you, Virgil.” His voice is low and controlled. “And I know you don’t really want to argue with me, either. You wanted to know about the azaleas, right?”

“Well yeah,” Virgil huffs. “But I really doubt that _flowers_ are actually going to help us in our situation here.”  

“Probably not,” Roman shrugs. “Still doesn’t hurt to talk about it, though. I think she’s mocking us with them.”

“With the death flowers? _Really?_ ”

“Yes, really, hear me out for a sec,” Roman says. “Passion: the curse amplifies and intensifies all the emotions we have, like the anger and frustration that keeps causing us to snap at each other. Temperance: we have to focus to temper and calm ourselves down to not lose ourselves to the hyped up emotions.”

Virgil remembers he’s standing over Princey and forces himself to fall back onto the bench and relax his hands.

“Femininity,” Roman continues. “Because the dragon witch is literally the only female antagonist any of us have. And a desire to go home,” Roman sighs. “I don’t think that one really needs explaining.”

“What about death?”

Roman shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s even applicable; azaleas only symbolize death threats when they’re sent in black vases.”

“That sounds...very specific.”

“That's flower symbolism for you; it's like a whole language in itself,” Roman sighs happily. “It’s quite funny when people who don’t really know flowers send them as gifts for others. Like a while back, Patton came into my garden to pick out some flowers for Logan, but he didn’t know the names of the flowers or what they mean, he was just picking out colors he thought looked nice. So he’s picking out things like petunias and orange lilies and butterfly weeds, which basically combine into a passive-aggressive insult-salad wrapped in a bouquet. And I didn’t even realize he was about to give it to Logan until-”

Virgil smiles as Roman continues talking about the past, watching Roman’s face and movements slowly become more animated as he gets lost in the anecdote. It feels peaceful and tranquil, so unlike the emotional rollercoaster they usually deal with when the sun goes down.  Moments like this, when the curse feels lighter and nothing hurts, have been too rare. It’s been way too long since Virgil has see Roman’s shoulders relaxed and thrown back and his eyes alive and content like this.

Virgil almost relaxes himself until his eyes glance down to yellow flowers.

 _Wait, yellow?_  

“Hey Roman…” Virgil says. “Does the symbolism change if the azalea’s color changes?”

“Well, yeah, color is a _huge_ part of flower symbolism, Virge.”

“Alright. Follow up question: weren’t those red before?”

Roman follows Virgil’s gaze to the flowers and frowns. “Huh, I could have sworn they were pink.”

“Pink? When the heck were they pink?”

“When the heck were they red?!”

“Since we got here! How do you not remem-” Virgil feels antsy energy building up in his chest again, and he takes a slow breath to dispel it. “Ok, let’s think this through. When _exactly_ did you notice they were pink?”

“When I first noticed the azaleas,” Roman says. “...which was right after I was calming down…” Roman springs up in excitement, causing Virgil to flinch. “Oh! I got it!”

“Got what?” Virgil asks. He can see the gears turning in Roman’s head, but he’s not following.

“When did you see the azaleas as red?”

“I already said that, when we first got here.”

Roman shakes his head. “No, I mean, what was happening? What were we talking about at the time?"

Virgil bit his lip. “...You were frustrated and pacing, and you wanted to go back to the others again.” He pauses in thought. “And they were definitely still red when we were arguing after that." 

“And they were yellow when I was talking about Patton and Logan!”

“Yeah...?”

“So the colors changes based on what we’re feeling!”

“So what, the mocking death flowers actually mocking _mood_ death flowers?” Virgil asks, sarcastically.

Roman just smiles.

“Oh great,” Virgil deadpans. “The mocking death flower are actually mocking mood death flowers.”

“Yup! And the color the azalea changes to matches what it symbolizes. Like, red azaleas emphasize passion, like those intense emotions we had earlier when we were arguing, and pink is seen as less intense and more affable than the red, so it popped up when we were calming down.”

“What about yellow?” Virgil asks.

“Yellow means family,” Roman says, smiling. “There must be some kind of magic in them. That’s kinda cool, isn’t it?”

“No,” Virgil says. “No, it’s not cool.”

There’s jittery energy building up inside him again, running down his arms and legs, making his whole body shake.  “We still don’t know to stop this curse or how she tracked us the first time, which means we _still_ can’t go back to the others. So we’re still _stuck_ here, and now apparently the dragon witch has a way of tracking our emotions, feelings, and thoughts through magic death flowers instead of just amplifying them? That’s not cool, that’s horrifying.”

Virgil pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around his knees. “This is horrible. We’re probably never going to be able to go back.”

Roman frowns in concern. “Virgil…”

“It’s been days _,_ Roman,” Virgil continues, curling into himself even more. His heart aches again. “ _Days_ , and we still know as little as we did when this first started. We’re getting nowhere.”

Virgil’s vision blurs, and he closes his eyes, feeling tears slide down his face. There’s no real point of wiping them away, so he doesn’t. “We’ll never be able to go home.” He says, defeated.

Roman is silent, and Virgil internally curses himself. Virgil was supposed to hold himself together so someone could keep Mr. Extroverted Right Brain grounded during this swarm of emotional chaos, not bawling his eyes out like this. He had one job, and he’s failing at it.  
  
But he can’t fight the overwhelming pessimism looming in his head or the desperate longing in his chest right now.

Virgil hears Roman shuffling closer to him. “Hey Virgil, buddy,” Roman’s voice is soft and careful. “Is it ok if I hug you?”

Virgil nods without looking up, and arms are gently wrapping around him, pulling him down until he’s leaning on Roman. “We’re going home, eventually," Roman says with a confidence Virgil doesn’t understand.

“But we _can’t._ ”

“We can’t right now, but that doesn’t mean we won’t later. We figured out the azaleas today, maybe we’ll figure out something else about the curse tomorrow, and then we’ll be able to go back then. Just because we don’t know how to get out of this now doesn’t mean we won’t figure it out later.”

Virgil lets out a watery, humourless chuckle. “That made too much sense. You kinda sound like Logan.”  

Roman shrugs. “I guess the nerd rubs off on me sometimes.”

“...I miss him.”

“I do, too.”

“...I’m not sure how much longer I can do this,” Virgil admits. “This is freakin torture.”

“I know. But we’ll be ok.”

“How?” Virgil asks. “How are you so sure about that?”

“Because I’m going to be leaning on you and you’re going to be leaning on me, and we’re going to figure this out together. Plus, earlier you said it yourself, Sunshine, we’ll be fine,” Roman pauses. “Also, the azaleas are pink again, so we must be doing something right.”

Virgil opens his eyes to check, and sure enough the previously yellow flowers are now pink.

The sun will rise and set again soon. The curse will make their hearts hurt and their tempers short. Roman will feel like pacing, shouting, and crying. Virgil will feel like curling up into nothingness and disappearing. It’ll feel like hell.

But there will also be azaleas to warn them when the passion becomes too intense. Virgil will have Roman to inspire hope and courage when all feels lost. Roman will have Virgil to stop him from losing himself in the energic emotions when they become overwhelming.

They’ll help each other trek through this living nightmare.

**Author's Note:**

> I recently studied "Electra at Azalea Path" in class and decided to experiment with some flower symbolism. 
> 
> This is also posted on my Sander Sides blog @cinnamonrollpatton. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
